Because the God King Said So
by Antoinette the Creepy
Summary: Starts at the series finale of Angel. Wesley dies in Illyria's arms and she avenges him, but she doesn't plan to let him stay dead. Some differences from After the Fall. Wesley/Illyria. Rating may be subject to change.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Angel. Joss Whedon does. I only use his awesome characters to add to their awesomeness. Also, this first chapter pretty much mirrors what happens in the series finale, but I add a small bit. I don't own any of it, but I appreciate using it as a running start so please don't hurt me! **

"I'm curious," Cyvus Vail wheezed as he slurped a spoonful of his soupy dish, looking from it to Wesley across the table. "What makes you think I won't kill you where you sit?" he asked, as if it couldn't be a more obvious question.

"Because," Wesley replied, his exterior cool as he spoke, sitting across from the powerful sorcerer. "You're smarter than the others. Smart enough to have your doubts about Angel, and rightly so. He's…unpredictable. And worse, he has a conscience."

Cyvus groaned. "You make a very persuasive argument." He sounded like he was going to say something more, but Wesley spoke again.

"Wait. It gets better," he said while under the table he held his palm facing up, a small red-orange glowing ball of magic forming in his hand. He let it sit a moment and gather more before he spoke again. "He'll betray you, because even if he acts like he's on your side, he'll turn on you because it suits him, and for his reasons alone. He'll isolate himself from you, and do only what he wants. Are you sure you think you can trust that?" he asked, his expression still cool as memories of what he had seen dealing with Angel in the past flashed through his mind. In the end, it still didn't mar what Wesley thought of him, because in the big picture, Angel was good.

Cyvus was about to speak again, when Wesley moved quickly. He tossed the ball of magic energy and hit the old sorcerer square in the chest with enough force to knock him back in his chair. Wesley jumped up from his chair and started to build up another magic ball, moving closer to serve a more direct and effective hit in the chest. Cyvus raised his hand first, his fingers bent slightly, and lifted Wesley off the ground in an invisible but magical iron grip. The old sorcerer took his time getting back up, groaning and coughing slightly, but still suspending Wesley.

Walking slowly, he moved away from the table, into a more open space. He knew there was going to be a fight, and even though he knew he was going to win as fragile as he was, the thought of Wesley trying to beat him was entertaining. He slowly walked around Wesley, amused and smug as he was looked down on with a pained expression, Wesley struggling to move even though he was slowly rotating as if he were a car in a show.

"Did you really think you had a shot at this?" Cyvus asked with a scoff, looking at him as if there were an obvious answer. "I can bend the very fabric of reality to my will. Your parlor tricks could never kill _me_, boy," he laughed, letting his arms hang at his sides as he stared Wesley down, standing to face him.

"Then I'll just have to do it the old fashioned way," Wesley said, straining to speak. From his hand, a little pocket knife opened up and with a rush of energy, he moved to stab Cyvus in the stomach. Cyvus grunted as he caught Wesley's hand before he could be stabbed and stopped him.

"Yes, I suppose we will," he agreed as he lifted a hand and glanced over at a nearby wall where two kukri hung, crossing over each other. A second later as he looked back at Wesley, one of the kukri flew to his hand and he caught it. He looked at it appraisingly before stabbing Wesley in the stomach.

Gasping, Wesley felt the sharp knife in him, and grunted in pain as it was then twisted inside him. Even still, he slowly started to raise a hand as he worked to build up a last small, glowing ball of magic, forcing it into Cyvus. It caused a small wave to form in between them and Cyvus was knocked back, pulling the knife out in the process, hitting the wall and knocking him down. Wesley had his feet on the ground again and one hand clutched his stomach.

He staggered, grunting in pain as the doors behind him flew open to reveal Illyria's arrival. She was already done with her assignment in killing a group of demons in the Circle of the Black Thorn. "Wesley," was all she said before she moved again. It only took her a few long steps to come up to his side, and she pulled him down to lie on the floor before he fell. She looked at his pained face before glancing over to look at the bloody puncture wound in his stomach. Her hand cradled his head as he gasped for air, and her face was as expressionless as ever.

"This wound is mortal," she announced as Wesley put his hand over it again. Illyria looked down at it, and put her hand down there as well, just touching the tips of his fingers.

"Aren't we all?" Wesley asked gasping, looking down towards it again before looking up at Illyria. She looked back at him as he spoke. "It was good that you came," he said, nodding slightly to let her know it was indeed a good thing.

"I killed all mine. And I was-" Illyria paused, looking off to the side. She was trying to find the word to use while still acting like she came only because it suited her.

"Concerned?" Wesley offered, still looking up at her with the smallest smile.

"I think so," she answered slowly, looking back at him briefly before inspecting his wound again. "But I can't help. You'll be dead within moments," she said in her monotonous voice, meeting Wesley's eyes for a second before he looked off.

"I know," he said, admitting it to himself that he knew he was going to die. He had survived having his throat slit and being left to lie behind a tree for God knows how long, and had been through so many rough times and made it through them, but he knew this was the last one. And he wasn't going to see any more after it. His eyebrows knit together slightly at the verbal realization.

"Would you like me to lie to you now?" Illyria asked softly, looking down at the dying man. He looked up at her, his eyelids starting to droop lazily as he kept getting weaker. It was clear Illyria's estimation was right, and he was dying quickly.

_The first thing a Watcher learns is to separate truth from illusion, because in the world of magics, it's the hardest thing to do. And since I don't intend to die tonight, I won't accept a lie._ Wesley remembered what he had told Illyria earlier in the day, and saw himself eating his words. He was going to die tonight, and because he knew it for sure, he could allow himself this one often forbidden luxury. It didn't matter anymore, and more than anything else, he wanted to see his Fred.

"Yes, yes. Thank you, yes," he replied quietly, his voice lower and weaker as he was no longer able to put any effort into anything.

An ungloved hand slowly and softly caressed his face, and Fred was there instead of Illyria, dressed in the outfit she died in, but looking as if the demon dust had never affected her. Her iced over blue eyes were Fred's warm brown, and Illyria's streaked blue hair was that shade of brown and her face showed no traces of any blue.

"Hello there," Wesley said, slurring, looking up at her with a weak smile on his face. Fred smiled down at him, her hand gently holding his face as tears started to well up in her eyes.

"Oh, Wesley," she said softly, sniffling as he reached a hand up to touch her shoulder. "My Wesley," she said, smiling at him lovingly, but sadly.

"Fred," Wesley moaned quietly, looking up at her with weak but relieved and love-filled eyes. "I've missed you," he whispered as she smiled at him again, a tear falling down. Fred bent down and kissed him gently, and then again as he had done for her, before kissing his forehead.

"It's gonna be okay," she said, her voice cracking slightly as she looked at him with hope. "It won't hurt much longer, and then you'll be where I am. We'll be together," she said, starting to cry, even though she still smiled at him.

"I- I love you," Wesley stuttered weakly, trying to smile and open his eyes wider, but his heavy lids wouldn't let him and he didn't have the strength to smile.

"I love you," Fred replied, sniffling again. "My love. Oh, my love," she got out as she started to sob, though she never looked away from him. By the time she had finished speaking, Wesley's eyes were wide and empty and his mouth hung open slightly. He didn't move. He was dead.

Fred gently laid his head down and sniffled again and gathered herself before she rose to stand. Her face was still tear stricken even as she heard Cyvus behind her begin to speak.

"How very touching his meaningless death was. But this fight was never for mortals," he said, shaking his head at Fred's back. Her expression no longer held a smile, growing only more solemn and grave. She turned to see him, giving him cold eyes and he exclaimed amusedly before laughing. He held out his hands to challenge her. "Take your best shot, little girl," he said, looking smug.

Fred pulled her fist back, but as she let it fly she morphed back into Illyria. Her punch hit Cyvus square in the face, and his whole head, skull and all shattered into a million tiny pieces in a killing blow. "It was better than yours," she said coldly, watching his body fall down among the dust and small debris that had been his head.

Now that she had taken care of her targets, and then Wesley's, she needed to meet the others who had survived thus far where Angel had told them to go. And she would, because she wanted to do more violence. Wesley's death had made her bitter and angry, and she wished to kill to her heart's content. She needed to get out this new aggression at both the fact that Wesley had been wounded, more so that he had died. She lied for him and she told him how long he had, but she didn't want him to die. She granted his last wish, but she didn't accept that he was gone.

Illyria wanted to explore more into the Fred façade, especially after this. It intrigued her, and she had found herself bearing concern and an overwhelming sense of grief and sadness over his death. She would go to fight with Angel and the others, but this was not over yet. Before she left, she picked his body up and carried it to a safe place in the dead sorcerer's home. She knew he had to have something around useful for this. It would hold his body until she could return to it, and make it so that Wesley would not be gone.

After she had placed his body somewhere she deemed good enough, she stroked her gloved hand gently over Wesley's face. Her expression looked the same as ever as she did so, and she took one last look before turning on her heel and heading to the Hyperion.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Angel. Joss Whedon does. I only use his awesome characters to add to their awesomeness.**

The outcome was different than they had expected. There had definitely been a fight once the remaining members of Angel Investigations gathered together in the alley by the Hyperion Hotel. Illyria had noted that Gunn was wounded and bleeding out, and wouldn't have much time left to be of any help in the coming fight.

Angel had led them into the fight against the wave of demons and creatures Wolfram & Hart had sent to them, but it was anticlimactic. There had only been a couple lines of minions to defeat…and that was it. It had continued to rain that night, and Gunn had become a vampire in the process of the fight. He was mortally wounded and he was ready to go out fighting, but he wanted to keep fighting even after this. He didn't want to go down the way he was, and had asked Angel a bizarre request. Spike and Illyria managed to hold off enough demons so that Angel could reluctantly and quickly turn Gunn, so that they would not lose another team member in the fight.

Weary and exhausted, the small group went back into their former headquarters and quickly found a place to rest in one of the many rooms of the hotel. None had even bothered to wash the blood, dirt, and demon grime off of them as they all collapsed onto separate beds. However, it wasn't long until Angel, Gunn and Spike got up soon after to find some blood, since there was none left in the refrigerator after they had left for Wolfram & Hart. Angel realized that they would need a lot more blood to support all three vampires than they ever had to carry, and made that oh-so familiar trip to an open butcher's shop and got plenty of blood. Now that Gunn was a new vampire, he needed to be sated, and Angel and Spike needed just enough to get by.

Meanwhile, Illyria had only briefly rested as well. She had something to take care of. She went back to Vail's place and went to the room where she had placed Wesley's body. She wished him rest, but she could not let him lie. These human feelings overrode anything else, and like a human, something she'd never admit to being similar to, she was going to feed into them.

She found his body as she left it, his eyes closed and his hands at his sides. The blood on his hands, face and wound long since dried after having left him, but the room she had put him in had other bodies in it as well. They were well preserved and kept in a shape good enough to believe that they could still be alive, only asleep. It seemed that Cyvus Vail also clearly dealt with the dead, and it had worked to Illyria's purpose. She knew he must have had the power to bring them back to life, or put a soul or life force into them, but he was still in pieces on the floor in the dining room. Had she left him alive, she would have forced him to bring Wesley back.

It seemed she would need another means to do so.

"Nothing is convenient in this world," she muttered to herself as she took a last look at Wesley's body before moving through the dead sorcerer's house, looking for something that could point her in a direction that would enable her to bring Wesley back.

When she had first emerged from the sarcophagus and hollowed out the body of Fred Burkle into her shell, she had unlimited power. So much so that she thought she probably could have brought Wesley back just from her sheer will. But she was reduced, and she had gotten accustomed to the amount of power she had left. She had learned to deal with the fact that if some of her powers had not been taken away, she would have destroyed everything in her wake. Illyria had even accepted it, but because of it now, she would need…help. She just didn't know who to go to.

_Enlist the help of the Wolf, Ram and the Hart? No. Angel and the rest have already ruined that relationship, as have I. I still do not understand why there was so little to fight. I had been expecting that so powerful an evil should have retaliated much more. Perhaps they wish us to think we have won, and then strike again. A clever strategy, but I won't be so easily fooled. Perhaps they have in their files somewhere a name or a spell book I may use to bring Wesley back if these ruins have nothing for me,_ Illyria thought, her iced-over blue eyes sharply looking around as she walked by rooms full of things she was sure would be of no use to her.

Two wooden doors were closed at the end of a hall she had been moving down, and she threw them open to reveal a library. The edge of her lip curled up in the slightest in satisfaction. Here, there had to be spell books, or even mention of some formidable sorcerer who she could force to help her.

She sifted through aisles of books quickly, her eyes picking up each title as she scanned over them, looking for a title that sounded like it would be of useful. Illyria kept looking, until she started looking over tables that still had books lying on them, some still open where Vail had left them. They were of general spells, and then specialized ones that had nothing to do with her purpose. She was about to push over an aisle of books in anger at finding nothing useful in this place until she found one leather bound book that she hadn't thought would work. It was an address book.

She flipped it open, looking through the names, seeing their specialty in the magics and where exactly to find them. Her displeased frown had curled up slightly again at finding something that made her plans easier as she found a wizard's name and information whose specialty was resurrection. _Drake Ellys. He had best do as I wish, or I will wear his entrails as a hat,_ she thought as she tore out the page with his information. She had a name and an address. She was content…for now.

She would go back to the Hyperion now, and see if she would beat the others back as she had known they left. The piece of paper crunched in her hand slightly as she left Cyvus Vail's house and Wesley's body. It would be safe here for now, until she could get this Drake Ellys to bring him back to life for her.

The others did not know of her plans, and she debated whether or not she should tell them. Illyria had let them know that Wesley had died, as it was also obvious as he had never made it back to the alley. She didn't know what they would think of it, and frankly she did not care. Wesley was a useful attribute to their team, and she knew that without him there would have been more problems in the past, despite the memories that she could call back from Fred's life that showed he had caused some as well. Those didn't matter to her; everyone did something incriminating and no one was truly innocent. But…

Illyria wanted him alive again, but not just because of these things that made him a good part of the team. She felt like…there was something missing inside her chest although she loathed to admit it. It had hurt when she watched him die, even as she lied to him, but she likened it to what Wesley had felt when she had first taken over Fred's body. She would not drink, of course; liquor was useless and it didn't affect her, but she would not let this sorrowful feeling stay. She was a god king, for Heaven's sake. She could do as she wished, and the others would deal.

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The vampires had already gotten back to the Hyperion by the time she had walked back in. Gunn was chugging down pig blood by the quarts, and Spike was sipping on a mug of his own, warmed to his specifications. Angel was by the small refrigerator behind the main desk and putting the rest of the blood in there. "Guys, we'll need a bigger fridge. Takes a lot to feed three hungry vampires," he said, pouring himself a mug of blood before turning to see Illyria walk in.

"Where have you been? Didn't know you'd left," Angel said, leaning an elbow on the main desk as he held his mug of blood. Illyria looked over at him, stopping by the round couch and glancing at the others.

"I was out," she said simply. The paper in her hand was slightly visible, but she had let that slip. "There was something I wanted to do."

"What's that paper you got, Blue?" Spike asked, nodding his head at her hand as he sipped his warm blood. He made a face and went to a nearby cabinet. "Needs Weetabix," he muttered and put some in. Gunn merely eyed her as he kept drinking from his container, but Angel took interest in Spike's observatioin.

"Paper? What's that for, Illyria?" he asked, looking right at her as she kept still. She seemed as if she was hiding something, but that seemed almost normal for her. They knew she had her own agenda and fulfilled her own wants when she felt like it. Still, there was curiosity since she had gone out just after the fight.

"It is nothing. I wanted to find out about something and I have. I am going to take my leave. Good night," Illyria said curtly, turning her head first before her body as she went back to the room she had chosen. The room still had a faint smell of paint that she could pick up on; it was as if the room hadn't been ventilated when it was finished. The smell annoyed her a little, but she was decided on this room. She didn't know it had been Fred's.

Meanwhile, downstairs the men looked at each other. Spike shrugged after she had left and continued to sip at his blood.

"Whatever, mate. She's gonna do what she's gonna do. As long as it doesn't include my blood or anything I like, I don't care," he said dismissively, although Angel was still curious. He knew what she was like, but he still wanted to know more in case it was something that would affect them all, especially in a bad way.

"You may not, but you never know what she's planning. After Wolfram & Hart, I still don't think we'll fully be able to rest and something not happen for once," Angel said with something like a resigned sigh. The fight for good never ended, and there was rarely a time for rest. He shook his head before sipping at his mug before grimacing and spitting out the blood. "Yuck! This tastes horrible!" he said, putting the mug down and looking at it to see if something had been done to the blood. "Does yours?" he asked, looking over at Spike and Gunn.

"Nah, mate. How about you, Gunn?" he asked, looking over at the new vampire who had finished chugging down his quart of blood.

"No, it tastes delicious. Though I'm sure human blood tastes better," he said as he went to the fridge to get more blood since he was still hungry. He paused for a moment, stopping half bent with the fridge open. "What's that sound? Like a beat?" he asked, standing back up and looking at Spike and Angel.

Spike's eyebrows knit together slightly as he listened closer. It sounded familiar. It was a sound he knew, one especially from the days he'd fed on humans. A heartbeat.

"Hey. That sounds like a heartbeat," he said, looking from Gunn to Angel. His hearing focused on the source, and his eyes widened slightly. "Well I'll be damned."

**Cliffhanger! Whose heartbeat is it? And what does it mean?? :O Reviews are nice...be kind, rewind :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Angel. Joss Whedon does. I only use his awesome characters to add to their awesomeness.**

Angel's hand shot to his chest, his suspicion raised as he was getting wide stares from both Spike and Gunn. Funny that he didn't hear it himself; such a sound he longed for was something that had slipped his notice. He looked down at his chest and back at the two vampires across from him.

"I'm alive," he said in disbelief. His eyes darted in between the two of them as he kept feeling the faint thumping under his hand. "How did this-" he started, but stopped and shook his head slightly with his lips pursed. "Knew we got off easy. Didn't you think so too? We were waiting for the fight of our lives, and we got a…hiccup of demons to fight. This has to be their doing," he said, pointing upward to indicate the Senior Partners. He should have known; the Senior Partners were pure evil, and they always had something planned for them should they retaliate like they did. Angel and the others had thought they'd gotten off easy, and now he saw that this had to be another effect.

Angel didn't know how he felt about being human again. While he was elated that he was alive again like he'd been wanting, he was alive again. That meant that should anything happen, like demons coming up and having to help the helpless, _he'd_ be one of the helpless ones. He'd remembered back when he was human for a day with Buffy, and he could barely help her. It would be like this now. The only human in this group of his.

"Well in't that a kicker?" Spike asked, smirking at Angel as he continued to sip the last of his blood. He looked in the empty mug and made a face. He walked over to the desk where Angel had put his mug down and took it. "Since you're not going to drink it," he said, grabbing some more Weetabix to put into it and raised it to Angel. "Cheers, mate. You're human again," he said and drank some of the blood.

"Yeah man, how are you gonna deal with that if we get some baddies comin' our way? Not sayin' that I couldn't take them out with my vamped up strength, but it works better if we got the whole crew workin' it," Gunn commented, having finished the last of his second container of blood and wiping his mouth with his hand.

"I don't know. We'll just have to keep up the appearance that I'm still…me," Angel said, shaking his head slightly and looking at the other two. "Look, there's nothing we can do about it tonight. We're all tired, we're full , and we need to get some sleep. I don't know about you two, but I'm headed to bed," he said with a tired wave of his hand and headed up the grand staircase to go to his room. He scratched his forehead and heaved a sigh as he closed the door to his room and settled for the night. He didn't even hear the other two move around and go to their rooms soon after.

Well, things couldn't get more twisted up than this, could they?

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The next morning, or early afternoon as it was, brought minimal sunlight through all the gloomy clouds that still hung in the sky from the night before. Spike and Gunn were still sleeping, Angel was stirring and still getting used to hearing his heart beat again, but Illyria was already gone. She was rested enough for what she was going to do, and she anticipated what would happen, seeing Wesley alive again.

That paper was in her hand again; it had barely left it through the night in case one of the others decided to discover her plans. She didn't really need to have it as she had already memorized the address and name into her head, but she wanted to be dead sure she wasn't going to the wrong place.

She took a last look at the piece of paper and looked at the house in front of her. _So this is Drake Ellys' house. I should have expected something so scraggly,_ she thought disdainfully, looking up at the small house amid other nicer looking homes on the empty street.

Walking up the path, her face was as straight and emotionless as ever. Once she reached the door, Illyria didn't even bother knocking, she pushed the door open with one hand, breaking the lock, and stepped in.

"Hey! Who did that? You're not supposed to be in here! I could kill you and bring you back up in China if you don't leave!" Drake Ellys' threat could be heard through the house as he came towards his open door from where he had been in the kitchen, making himself some brunch. His eyebrows were knit together in annoyance, and he had sounded like he gave off this threat way too often.

It was true. There was always some runty teenager trying to break into his house and he always had to chase them out with that threat and a butcher knife. It was getting old, but it still seemed to work. However, when he made it to his open front door, the butcher knife in his hand slipped onto the floor and his mouth dropped open slightly. This woman was no stupid teenager, she was this scary looking blue woman, with freaky iced over eyes and tinted blue skin. She was thin, but she still looked really intimidating.

"Who…who're you?" he stuttered out as he looked up slightly at the woman.

Illyria looked down at him, eyes wide as normal and her head tilted to the side a little before she spoke. This man was unimpressive. She knew it. Sorcerers and wizards who dabbled in matters such as these always kept a low profile, and always looked as if they were dirt poor, when she knew they probably charged hefty fees for their services. This would cost her nothing, however.

"You are Drake Ellys." It was a statement, and the man did nothing but gulp and nod. As she stepped further in, he backed up until he hit the closest wall.

"W-what do you want from me?" Drake asked, unable to tear his eyes away from the way she looked. It was surreal and extremely creepy.

"You are going to resurrect someone for me, or I will eviscerate you. Slowly. And then I will make you wear your entrails," Illyria said simply. She didn't expect him to protest, but even in his stuttering fear, he still thought to.

"What? N-no, I'm not. Not unless you got some major cash, lady," Drake said, trying to puff out his chest as he tried to be defiant in the face of this threat. She looked like she might actually carry it out if he didn't do it, but he didn't want to give in so easily.

"I need none of this cash. I am Illyria. You will do as I tell you, or I will rip out your spine and make a necklace of it," Illyria said, her voice hardening slightly as she couldn't believe this low slug was telling her no. She took a step closer to him and raised a hand as if she were going to choke him as he backed into the wall again, slowly gulping again. "You will resurrect Wesley," she said, staring him down as she closed the space between her and the cowering man.

Drake was about to piss himself. This was way too crazy, ridiculous, and way too scary. This woman was terrifying, and he had nowhere else to back up since he was already against the wall. His lip trembled for a moment before he spoke again, his forehead starting to sweat a little.

"Alright, alright. I'll do it. J-just leave my spine and guts alone. Please," he whimpered, turning his head to one side so her face wasn't so close to his. He shut his eyes, waiting for her to just kill him already, but he felt a tight iron grip on his lower arm and yelped as he was tugged away by the freaky blue woman out of his house.

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Back in the Hyperion, the boys were finally all up. Spike slowly made his way down the stairs to see Angel already up and about, trying out some moves and seeing how he felt now that he was human again. He punched at the air with too much force and hurt his back doing it. Groaning, he rolled his shoulder, hoping it would help it stop hurting so much. Spike walked down the rest of the stairs, laughing.

"How's it going there? Threw out your back, old man?" he asked, chuckling as he went over to Angel to pat him on the shoulder playfully. Angel shrugged him off, making a face as he stepped away and sniffed.

"I'm fine. I'm just testing myself out. Seeing my limits," he said, rolling his shoulder again and flexing his arm. The pain was still there, but he could take it. If he were still a vampire, it would've never happened. Spike was still grinning.

"Hey mate, you wanna spar? I'm sure this time I'll kick your pansy ass before you even lay a hit on me," he suggested, letting out another chuckle. "Now that you're all alive again, I'm faster, stronger, and can last much longer than you can," he said, enjoying the feeling of superiority and picking on Angel. "C'mon Ange, let's have a taste, yea?"

Angel glared at him for a second, his hand balling into a fist in annoyance. He said nothing in response, but lashed his fist out towards Spike's face. Spike, however, was already anticipating it. He knew Angel wouldn't turn down a chance to fight, so he was ready to duck by the time Angel swung out.

As he ducked, he whirled his leg around and knocked Angel out from under him onto the floor. He smirked at the grimace on his face, but stayed ready even as Angel jumped back up and lifted his foot to try and kick Spike in the stomach. Spike grabbed Angel's ankle and pushed it away as his other hand moved to punch Angel in the stomach.

Angel coughed, winded from the punch and glared at Spike, but swung out again with his fist and tried to hit him again. Spike stopped his fist and hit him again, laughing now.

"This is too easy, mate. You've gone completely soft now that you're all alive again. Come on, I know you can do better than that. What would Cordy think if she saw her Captain Forehead all weak and unable to beat _me_?" Spike said, still laughing as he instigated Angel. He laughed a little harder as he watched Angel recover himself, and got cocky to wait till the last minute before Angel would hit again. However, he waited a second too long and got a good punch in the nose.

"Oi! What's with hitting the nose?! Everyone hits me in the nose!" he whined loudly as Angel laughed this time around. Spike swung out to get Angel back, but his wrist got caught in a hold by someone. It was Gunn.

"Yo, what are you two doing? We're all supposed to be on the same side," he said, looking at the both of them, Spike's nose starting to bleed a little.

"I was just giving Angel here a little test run now that he's all human again. I bet him he couldn't land one hit on me, but the bugger did it," Spike said, wiping his nose and licking it off his hand. Even Buffy's disgust by him doing that still didn't stop him from doing it ever again, and even Gunn was grossed out by it this time.

"Man, that's just nasty. So you got one in on Spike then?" Gunn asked Angel, grinning. Angel smirked and nodded, though he held a hand on his stomach. He probably wouldn't bruise there just yet, but it still hurt slightly.

"You wanna go too, Gunn? I don't wanna get rusty being like this," Angel said, getting into a fighting stance, just inviting Gunn to throw a punch. Gunn raised an eyebrow slightly before shrugging and threw a punch.

Boys would always be boys.

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Illyria had pulled Drake Ellys to Cyvus Vail's house and into the room where Wesley's body was still being kept. He was still just as she had left him, and she felt something inside her chest twinge slightly at the thought that she was going to have him brought back to life. She yanked Drake's arm and pushed him towards Wesley's resting body.

"You are going to bring him back. Do whatever you need to do, but you are going to make him live again," she said, walking up to Wesley's body and glaring over at Drake, who inspected his work.

"When did he die?" he asked, looking the body over as he got into business mode and stepped to the other side of his body. Illyria watched him carefully.

"Last night. Why?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously as she stood across from him, her hands planted on the edge of the table Wesley lay on.

"Nothing. I just wanted to know how fresh the body was," he said before he put a hand on Wesley's forehead, and one on his chest. He looked at Illyria, seeming more confident. "Stand back, and I'll do this," he ordered. Illyria raised an eyebrow at the order, but nonetheless complied.

With that, Drake closed his eyes and began chanting in another language that not even Illyria could recognize. Her head tilted slightly as she watched him, half in curiosity, half making sure he was doing what he was supposed to. The chanting continued on for minutes, but it felt like it was longer to Illyria. She could see it start to work as under Drake's hands started to glow gold, and a light filled and lit up Wesley's body. She could see the wound from the knife in his stomach close up, and then saw the slightest rise in his chest.

She watched more intently, unable to help taking a step closer. It took a couple more minutes of gibberish before Drake stopped and took his hands off of Wesley. He groaned as he wiped his hands on his pants, even though none of the dried blood had made it onto his hands.

"There. Now he's alive," he said, wanting to leave now. "Can I leave?" he asked, sounding impatient. Illyria held up a hand, giving him a look that told him to hold as she stepped up to the table and looked at him.

"If this did not work, I'll-" Illyria stopped mid threat as she heard the sudden loud gasp from below her. Her head snapped downward as she saw Wesley's blue eyes pop open as he gasped for a big gulp of air. He coughed and gasped for air again, his eyes darting around as he wondered what in the world was going on.

**Wesley's alive!! Yaaaay! Review please, I'd like to know how I'm doing. And please, be kind…rewind. :)  
**


	4. Chapter 4

_Thank you to the couple of people who reviewed the last chapter! Good to hear your feedback and hope to hear more _

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Angel. Joss Whedon does. I only use his awesome characters to add to their awesomeness.**

"What?" Wesley breathed, his eyebrows immediately knit together in utter confusion and other simultaneously running emotions as he looked at his surroundings with blurred vision. Illyria still looked down at him, her eyes wide as she watched him gather his senses and his breath. Her hand rested gently on his face as their eyes met for a moment; what passed between them was odd for Illyria to process because it was the fact that she was feeling something human.

"Wesley," Illyria said quietly, looking up from him for a brief second to give Drake a quick glare to let him know he could leave right then. When he scampered out, she looked back down at Wesley and her hair fell down to frame her face. Looking up at her with his vision still blurry, Wesley could have almost sworn it might have been a distorted version of Fred looking down at him. He was going to say her name, as if he were picking up where he had left off the night before just before he died, but as his vision started to clear he could see the blue more clearly. He wasn't sure if he was let down; at the moment he was more bewildered than anything else.

He'd died. He hadn't even closed his eyes as he had his last breath. Fred's image was the last thing he saw, so why were his eyes open, why was he breathing, and why was the first thing he was looking at Illyria?

"What? What's goi-" Wesley started, regaining focus, and slowly some coherent thought. "Why am I-" he tried again, looking up at Illyria and then trying to sit up. With some effort and then being propped up by Illyria, he looked around and recognized the room as somewhere in Cyvus Vail's house. He looked at Illyria, his expression confused. "What happened? Why am I alive? Didn't I die?" he asked her, knowing he wasn't dreaming. He didn't dream of being alive again; he had thought for certain that he was finally done…and with Fred. The real one. His dream came true when he died.

"Yes, you did die," Illyria answered, sitting down next to him on the table he'd been lying down on so he could lean on her for support until he got his bearings back. "I lied to you as you asked, and you died in my arms," she answered him, looking off to the side and away from him for the moment as he let it sink in. She was not sure if she wanted to explain why he was back by her doing just yet. It was enough dealing with the human emotions that made her do all of this in the first place. Having to explain them to him would be a nuisance, and difficult for her. "What happened, and why will be explained to you, but not now. I do not wish to discuss it. We must get you out of here. I tire of this place," she said as she got up and helped him to his feet.

Wesley was still wobbly, and his arm was slung over her shoulders for support as she slowly led him out of Vail's house. Illyria would not bring him back to the Hyperion, at least not yet. She wanted to keep him hidden, at least for now. For that, she would have to find a place for him to go.

Spike's old place came to mind as she remembered sitting in front of the TV with the now dead Drogyn playing Crash Bandicoot just only two days before. The others would not think to look there; as far as they knew, it was empty and was of no more use now that they had attacked the Circle of the Black Thorn. It was especially of no more use since they were all in the Hyperion Hotel now. Illyria herself had never been there before yesterday, but she had known her way around it well enough by being able to dig into Fred's memories that still seemed to linger even though the soul was gone. Maybe that was why she had chosen the room she had, but that was of no matter now.

Much to Wesley's dismay, Illyria had carried most of his weight all the way there to the empty Trojan apartment. By then, he had convinced both himself and her that he could walk fine on his own, and it wasn't until they got in that she finally decided to let him walk by himself. Wesley felt grimy, and was desperate for a shower. He had stalked off to the bathroom so he could clean off, and while he did that, Illyria sat on the couch, perfectly still, letting it sink in that she really had just brought him back.

As Wesley rinsed off the blood off of his hands and face, his mind worked to comprehend the fact that he was alive, when he'd been dead only the night before. How he felt about this, he didn't know. What he did know was that he'd been with Fred again for so short a time, probably just shorter than what he had with her when she was actually alive. It wasn't her death that tore them apart this time, it was his resurrection, and he was pretty sure Illyria had everything to do with it. She was the only one there, except for the man who had brought him back. That was easy enough to figure out, but what he couldn't understand was why. Illyria was a self serving being, and she moved only to please herself first and foremost. She'd been there the night before out of concern for him and had shown grief when he was dying, but why would she have him brought back?

Maybe he was happy to be back, but if he was, he wasn't really feeling it at that moment. What was he feeling at that moment? Still ever so confused, in a way depressed, and wondering the big question- _why?_ Wesley let out a sigh as he ran a hand over his face, the water pouring down over him and rinsing him off. His hand moved to his stomach where he had been stabbed, and the wound was completely closed, although it felt like there would be a trace of a scar left over. Was anything that happened even real? Or was it all a lie, one big illusion that he fell for that the Watcher's Council had taught him so much to avoid? It felt like the line that separated reality and the illusion was erased, because nothing seemed to make sense in the past short time he'd been resurrected.

* * *

In the Hyperion, Angel was feeling restless. Sore, but restless. And a bit hungry. There was no human food to be had in all of the hotel, only pig's blood for Spike and Gunn. It occurred to him that he could now easily go grocery shopping in the daylight and have nothing happen to him, but doing so might give his new condition away. It was back to the sewers, but then again it wasn't like he had left them, although he would've liked to have back that car pool that Wolfram and Hart had given him. The tinted windows would've kept up a good image.

The sun shone in through the front doors, casting a long bright mimicry of the glass doors that stretched to the round chair that sat nearby. Spike lounged on the side of the chair that was kept in the shade, his arms behind his head as he sat comfortably.

"You really should get yourself some food, mate. I'm sick of hearing your stomach growl," he said, leaning his head back and turning it lazily towards Angel, who stood leaning against the front desk, just near the edge of the light. It was habit that he just shied away from it, always standing just next to it but never in it. His arms were crossed over his chest as he stood there, his face showing signs of slight annoyance.

"Yeah, man, seriously. Get some grub. I knew when you hungry your stomach talks, but I don't think I ever heard it this loud," Gunn added, only making Angel scowl. He was still playing around with his fresh new vampire strength, trying out different moves and fighting the air. The exertion made no difference; he didn't need to catch his breath, and he was finding it was coming in really handy. Angel grumbled to himself and started walking away from the front desk, grabbing his typical black leather coat.

"I'll be back," he muttered, skulking out of the main lobby. He stopped for a moment and turned around to look at Spike and Gunn. "Hey, do you guys know what happened to Illyria this morning?" he asked as it occurred to him to wonder. Both vampires shook their heads and shrugged uselessly, and Angel rolled his eyes as he headed towards the basement where he could access the sewers. He wondered how good the food would taste after a trip in the sewers, if walking through them actually did anything.

* * *

Wesley stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in clean clothes and looking…more alive than he had just been only that morning. He was quiet, and his face was straight, holding no discernable emotion that Illyria might comment on. He debated having a drink to dull all that he was feeling, but he decided against it. Remaining wordless, he walked slowly over to the dining table and spun a chair around to face Illyria.

She hadn't missed Wesley's entrance into the main room, but she had kept motionless, a statue the whole time. She saw him pull up a chair and move it so that he could face her. Her eyes looked over at him before her head turned to acknowledge his presence. It was so quiet that even the near-silent swallow of Illyria's throat could be heard.

Wesley took a seat across from the couch that Illyria sat on, and crossed his arms over his chest. He sat up straight, his face still plain and expressionless, but there was curiosity in his eyes. He pursed his lips slightly, and opened his mouth to speak.

"I suppose you want to know why you are alive again," Illyria said before Wesley could even say a word. She had been looking somewhere on the floor, just so that something other than Wesley could fall under her infallible stare for the moment. She still refused to look up at him, and wouldn't yet. The time to explain herself, she could tell, was drawing near, but she still did not wish to. She shifted her gaze to something else in the room as she tilted her head, deliberating with herself on what she should say next.

"You'd suppose right. Illyria, what is the meaning of this?" Wesley asked, his tone flat, but there was an underlying curiosity there that was dying to know the reasons for everything. "Why am I back? I died. And yet, here I am, sitting here," he said, leaning back a little bit in his chair as his arms tightened slightly over his chest. He looked right at her, his blue eyes demanding that she look back at him and give him straight answers.

"I," Illyria started, making herself look at him as she could feel his stare on her, "I do not need to explain my actions to you. I do as I wish, and it suited me to have you brought back," she said with a finality to it, as if that was all she needed to say. By now though, she had learned enough about Wesley to know that it would not be enough for him, but he would have to deal.

"Did it now?" Wesley asked, his head tilting slightly as he began to smirk. "Are you sure you aren't developing more human emotions that are making you do more human things? Because, if I didn't know any better, I'd think it was…no, I wouldn't. You aren't capable of feeling something so beneath you, am I right?" he said, wording it the right way to get it out of her. He knew how she refused to admit to much of anything that connected her and humans, and she'd be quick to prove him wrong. He often used this to get what he wanted to know out of her.

Illyria glared slightly, her mouth shut tight. He was doing it again, the way he worded questions just so she'd tell him what he wanted to know. It was an unfair thing, and it didn't fail here. Her eyes narrowed slightly at him and his abuse of that ability, and pressed her lips a little bit tighter together. This was not something she wanted to crack open about, and she would not give it away so easily. Wesley merely continued smirking at her, knowing it was working. He said nothing more, and just looked at her while she refused to speak.

The stalemate lasted only a few minutes longer before Illyria sent Wesley glares that only made him smirk more. It wouldn't be long before he would finally know why. There was something she didn't want to tell him, but he was going to find out.

Illyria continued glaring at him, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Fine. You were brought back because I wanted you back here. Ever since the time I Fred's form for the sake of her parents and yours, I was curious. You did not speak to me for a while after that, but I did not understand why. Spike had told me it could hurt you all more than any of my powers could, and then I began to understand. I had asked to explore the Fred persona, but it was clearly out of the question. However," she said, looking away from Wesley and began looking somewhere on the floor again, "When you died, I found that I wanted to know about other things as well… Felt other things. I will not ask if you wish for me to use the Fred persona again, but, I was not done with you when you died last night," she said, her voice showing no emotion as she spoke. Her stare remained on the floor as she thought she had more than explained herself. At least, that was as good as it was going to get.

Wesley sat across from her, feeling somewhat bemused. So he had been right, but he hadn't been expecting the last of what she had said. He knew she had been starting to feel human emotions after being around him and the others long enough, but it seemed he was just given a small idea as to how far her feelings about things were beginning to stretch.

**OOOOOoooo! What do we think Wesley's gonna say? Who knows?! Until the next chapter…Review please- be kind…rewind! **


	5. Chapter 5

_Hey everyone! I know it's been a while since I put up the last chapter, but I had to get that annoying thing called school out of the way. Procrastinating didn't help either, so I had to do some major hustling. Anyways, I love getting reviews, and what I've got is a good start. Thanks for them, I hope for many more. And now, onto Chapter 5!_

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Angel. Joss Whedon does. I only use his awesome characters to add to their awesomeness.**

Eyebrow raised, Wesley sat still for a moment. His head was tilted slightly as he observed Illyria, watching her eyes starting to dart around as she seemed to need something to distract herself from being under his scrutiny and having just explained more than she had wanted to. He himself did not yet know what to say in response to what she'd said, so he pursed his lips slightly, the bemused feeling starting to turn into that of slight surprise and confusion.

"So," Wesley started, watching Illyria only glance at him at the sound of him starting to speak. He opened his mouth to say more, but he was still slightly unsure of what exactly he wanted to say. Closing his mouth, he watched her seem to squirm- if a being such as Illyria could squirm- in her seat while she waited for him to say something.

He thought for a moment, taking his piercing gaze off of Illyria for a moment as he figured what he could say in response to her increasingly human confession. He had had a feeling that being around humans was starting to affect her, only he hadn't known for sure that she was starting to feel things about him. He knew that she wanted to play around with being Fred more, but he couldn't handle it. He still probably couldn't handle it now, and it only slightly comforted him to know that she wouldn't ask to try that again. Letting out a breath, he finally spoke.

"I see you _are_ beginning to feel human emotions. Now, don't try to deny it," he said with a hint of a smirk, as he could see Illyria starting to open her mouth to tell him otherwise, "Because if you weren't, you would have just let me stay dead. I knew you were feeling concern last night, and that is reasonable, but I would have never expected that you would…feel so strongly as to have me brought back from the dead." As he said it, the fact hit him again and he still couldn't find himself believing it.

"You are someone who either kills people, or finds dead people and lets them lie. You aren't someone who would care, nor are you someone who would put in personal effort for anyone, especially a dead person. They aren't of any use to you so I'm wondering, what's so special about me?" Wesley asked, looking at her again as he spoke, looking directly at her as he waited for her answer. He could see he was onto something, and not just because Illyria looked uncomfortable. Clearly she'd wanted him for something, but what she wanted with him wasn't fully clear yet.

Illyria's eyes kept shifting. Her comfort level in this, already low, was continuing to plunge further down as Wesley kept speaking. Having to come semi-clean about why he was alive again was not something she liked having to explain any part of, and now he was asking another hard question. She didn't mean to meet his eyes while she looked all around the room at anything but him, but when they met, her face hardened. She got up abruptly, standing up to her full height as she looked down at him in his chair and gave him what looked like a disgusted look. She glared before turning to walk toward the door.

"You do not get to ask me those questions. I do not need to tell you who I am, so you know I am not subjected to answer them. I am nothing like you humans, and if I could I would rub my skin until it bled to scrub off these low things that are starting to infect me like insects," Illyria said coldly, walking to the door and stopping before it. She turned her head ever so slightly toward Wesley, who she now saw getting up and moving after her. "You are to stay here until I say so. I am- what are you doing?" she asked as he got closer, wordlessly putting his hand on the door knob before she could open it as he looked down at her, blue eyes boring into her face.

* * *

Angel came back into the hotel, looking disheveled, slightly dirty and breathing heavily with a couple of brown bags stuffed with groceries in his arms. After he dragged himself down the stairs he dumped the bags onto the main counter and rested his head on the counter. Spike and Gunn were sparring again, and it looked like Gunn's fresh vampire strength was giving him a slight edge over Spike, who looked like he was starting to get worn down though he certainly didn't act like it. He saw Angel out of the corner of his eye and looked over at his frenemy's appearance, taking a punch to the face in the process.

"Bloody hell, OW! Did you not notice that I wasn't paying attention to the fight?" he said, looking back at Gunn and quickly throwing a hand up to block another incoming punch. Gunn was practically still bouncing on his feet like a boxer, ready to throw another hit at him.

"Yeah I noticed, and you left yourself open so why waste a good opportunity?" Gunn grinned, punching Spike's arm even though he too had seen Angel come in. He just hadn't let it distract him, even with the messed up appearance. He was too fight happy, but saw that Spike was done when he shrugged him off and went over towards Angel.

"What happened to you, mate?" Spike asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked over at Angel. "You look like you got…beat up or something? Oh, don't tell me you got mugged takin' a walk in the sewer?" he asked with a laugh; the thought of Angel of all people getting mugged in the sewer was one of the funniest things he could imagine happening. Just the thought of that happening to someone like him was absolutely hilarious, although he figured Angel would still be able to defend himself to a degree.

"Laugh it up Peroxide, but no, I didn't get mugged. Ran into a demon down in the sewers. Picked a fight with me, and I only just got away. I beat him up some, but it just wasn't the same, and I didn't want to have to run back and get more food," he explained with a sigh, feeling slightly embarrassed with himself that he actually ran from a fight with a demon he could have probably easily killed had he still been a vampire. That, and he ran away so he could save his groceries. He never thought he'd have to do something like that.

"Oh okay, so a big bad demon just comes up and tries to kill you? Then you run away with your stuff, and come back here? God, I never thought I'd see the day where the mighty Angel ran from a fight. You're never gonna get to live this down, you know," Spike laughed, completely aware of the circumstances, but he didn't care that Angel ran because he was human. He walked over and gave Angel a purposefully hard pat on the shoulder, from which Angel winced and glared at Spike.

"Want me and Gunn to go defend your honor and kill the sucker?" Spike asked, still laughing as he patted his shoulder again before starting to walk to the weapons chest. Angel continued glaring even as Gunn laughed too, still eager for a fight and raring to go.

"Just kill the thing. Leave my honor out of this. While you're at it, go kill other demons in the sewer until you forget this even happened," Angel growled, glaring at both his friends as they took their weapons of choice and walked towards the door that'd lead them to the sewers. Angel took out a bag of chips from one of his grocery bags and wrenched it open, munching grumpily on his chips.

* * *

She could so easily push his hand away from the doorknob, or break his arm to do it, or push him away so quickly and so far he could hit the opposite wall and be knocked out to get him out of her way. But she didn't. She couldn't decipher the look on his face as she looked up at him, her hand so close to grabbing his wrist and wrenching it away from the door only to stop just an inch or two above it.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, looking up at him with an annoyed expression. "You are not stopping me, Wesley. I am going out, and you are staying here until I say otherwise," she said, as defiant and imperial as ever.

"I suppose you know I'm right about everything. If I wasn't I don't think you'd be throwing such a fit. I just wanted to tell you I know I'm right, and you're too afraid to admit it. I still want to know what makes me different from the others," Wesley said, looking down at her as she glared at him. After he spoke, she looked like she was really going to yank his wrist off the knob. Her jaw tightened, and she gave him a controlled push away from her, pushing him far enough away that she could leave the apartment and shut the door behind her.

From inside, Wesley could hear a loud thud as Illyria punched a nearby wall before stomping off. He looked at the door as he got off the floor and crossed his arms over his chest. He was starting to think that he could begin drawing himself of an idea of what was going on with Illyria and his importance to her, but it sounded too farfetched. He turned away from the door and walked over to sit on the couch where Illyria had been sitting and looked at the chair across from him. What did this mean? It seemed that he was on the right track by getting her so flustered, but he'd yet to reach the reason why. It would be a long road, he was sure, in getting Illyria to talk about what she really meant.

Meanwhile, Illyria had left the building the apartment was in. She needed to go and kill something, to reduce the flustered feelings Wesley had kept poking at. It wasn't fair that he was spot on, and that he had learned to read her so well. She should have known that spending so much time with him when she had first emerged was a bad idea. It was for survival in this world, but it had turned into something that Wesley could use to manipulate into getting her to delve into her budding emotions for him to know about and contemplate. Her need to survive in this world had turned against her, and it had led her to bring a man back from the dead that she was most unwilling to admit she was developing feelings for.

One could imagine her relief when she ventured into the sewers to find some low demon scum to beat up and kill and found one practically waiting for her at the entrance she came in. Illyria quickly started beating it up, reducing her punches and kicks to be non-fatal so she could render the demon to a bloody pulp before she killed it. It helped a little with lowering her aggression, and she enjoyed kicking it around until it hit someone she hadn't noticed there, fighting another demon.

"Yo, Illyria, what're you doing here?" Gunn asked, dodging a punch from the demon who was trying to hit him as he stumbled to one side after Illyria's demon hit him. She stepped quickly forward to break her demon's neck, dropping his body at her feet as she looked up at Gunn. A second later, another crack was heard as Spike finally killed the other demon and poked his head from around the corner .

"Yeah, where ya been Big Blue? Haven't seen ya since last night," Spike said, coming around the corner to stand with the others. Illyria only stared at them; in the midst of everything, she had forgotten she had left Angel, Spike, and Gunn at the Hyperion, and running into any of them was the last thing on her mind.

**Yay! Another chapter done. What do you guys think is gonna happen next? Please, please review. I love them. And as always, be kind…rewind. Until the next time :)  
**


	6. Chapter 6

_Hey, all! I know it's been FOREVER, but I've been wicked busy. I felt bad that I've let this sit this long, so I wanna get back into this story. For you, Chapter 6! I hope you enjoy!_

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Angel. Joss Whedon does. I only use his awesome characters to add to their awesomeness.**

Illyria's big eyes seemed to widen in the surprise of having forgotten about them, and having unexpectedly run into them. It was very brief, however, and she caught herself and put on her generally stern expression.

"I am killing demons because it suits me," she answered, looking at them ever imperiously. Sometimes she wondered why she answered them, when they did not need to know, or even when it was clearly apparent. The demon she killed lay on the ground in a crumpled heap, its face indiscernible from having been pounded on so much. If she was lucky, the boys would not pick up on the fact that she had been beating up on it so much to vent her…disgusting human emotions. "I still do not need to explain my reasoning to either of you."

The answer, however, seemed to do well enough for the boys, and they shrugged.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, turning the subject from herself to the other two.

"Fair enough, Blue. We're down here defending Angel's honor. The funniest thing happened," Spike said with a laugh, holding out a hand as if motioning for her to hold on. Illyria waited, tilting her head slightly as she watched the vampire chuckle. Defending Angel's honor? Couldn't he do that himself?

Already it was apparent that he was wasting her time, and her look grew impatient.

"Alright, alright. So, me and Gunn, we're sparring, and the Dark Avenger comes in looking like he got beat up for his lunch money, and so I ask him what happened. Turns out, on his way back from gettin' his groceries, he walked through the sewers and got attacked by a demon!" Spike laughed, slapping his leg as he fondly remembered the fresh memory before he continued. "He pretty much ran like a girl and went back to the hotel so he wouldn't lose his groceries," he finished, now giggling like a teenage girl, and Gunn was laughing too.

"Yeah, man, it was hilarious," Gunn laughed, shaking his head while Spike wiped a tear from his eye. All the while, Illyria grew increasingly confused.

"I don't understand. Angel is a strong fighter. Why would he run from a battle, or let himself get beat up? And why did he have groceries? Vampires need only blood," Illyria said, not making sense of the story and its subject. Her head tilted to the other side, and she regarded the two vampires in front of her. Her voice was sharp. "Explain."

Spike looked a little lost for a second, but realized that she really had missed out on the interesting happenings at the Hyperion. His eyes widened for a second, but then he remembered that Illyria had been missing the whole night, so she wouldn't have known anything.

"Oh, yeah, that's right," Spike said, smirking. "Angel's a human now. He needs all the human food now. Happened sometime last night. We heard a heartbeat, and since Gunn's don't beat anymore, we figured out it was his," he explained, feeling rather smug. Illyria opened her mouth to speak, presumably to ask how, but Gunn piped in before she could talk.

"We don't know how it happened, either. We're just kinda assuming that Wolfram and Hart are laying some kinda whammy on him for starting the rebellion against the Senior Partners. We're trying to keep it on the down low, though. Don't want word getting around that he ain't all that anymore, y'know?" Gunn said with a slight shrug. Illyria nodded slowly, letting the information sink in.

One night, and she had missed a lot. Granted, she had had her own agenda and her determination to take care of it had consumed her, but this was an added problem to contend with. Angel was no longer a vampire, therefore he was no longer as useful as he had been. He was fragile now, as fragile as Wesley was, and because of that, care would have to be taken so that he would not be broken. An image would have to be kept up to keep the demon world thinking that he was still a vampire. How they would accomplish this? She currently didn't care. It was not a concern of hers at the moment.

"That's very… unfortunate. He was a useful fighter. How do you expect to cope with that should a fight ensue where he is around?" Illyria asked, iced over eyes looking between the two vampires. They looked at each other, and then her.

"Don't know, mate, but we'll manage yet," Spike answered. That was a good question. "Anyway, this wasn't the demon who attacked Angel. We're going to hunt it down and kill it. Want to come?" he offered, the next part coming out in an almost singsong way, "You'll get to kill more demons."

Illyria considered it, but thought that once they had found the demon, they would call it a day and go back to the hotel. She couldn't do that just yet. She had to make sure Wesley was following her orders. Wesley…

"No. I want to kill indiscriminately. I will go my own way," she said with finality in her tone. She remembered why she was down there in the first place, and was frustrated again. The urge to kill flared in her, and she regarded the two men before turning on her heel and walking off. They looked at each other and shrugged. Illyria was just plain weird sometimes.

"Let's get going, then. I wanna get this guy," Gunn said, rubbing his hands together with a smirk. Spike laughed and nodded in agreement, and with that, both walked off in the other direction.

* * *

About ten dead demons later, Illyria had returned to the apartment building. She was feeling better; the screams of pain and crack of bones and both external and internal appendages were soothing music to her ears, and when she'd had some of it, she felt she could return. When she opened the door, she saw that Wesley was sitting on the couch, watching television.

"Not flustered anymore?" Wesley asked, not looking away from the television. There was a hint of an amused smirk on his face, knowing that he was probably already well on his way to ticking her off again. Illyria closed the door behind her, and glared.

"Do not start. I am not inclined to go back to the sewers so soon," she said, walking over to one of the chairs and sitting on one, notably away from Wesley. "Angel is human."

Wesley was about to say something else to work her up, but paused at what he heard. His eyebrows rose in surprise, and he leaned back into the couch.

"Really? When did this happen? And how?" he asked, looking from the television to the blue woman sitting pointedly across the room from him. Illyria continued to glare.

"Last night, and I don't know. Spike and Gunn do not know either. It simply happened. They think it was the Wolf, Ram and Hart that did it. Retribution, or some such," she explained to the best of her ability. Now that she was calmer, she had enough care to think about the situation the others were currently dealing with. It was also another way to not deal with her own issues.

"I see," Wesley said, one hand rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he looked off at something random. There were interesting predicaments all around, it seemed, and all happening at the same time. It was a peculiar thing; Angel had signed away his bid on the Shanshu prophecy when he worked his way into the Circle of the Black Thorn, so he couldn't possibly have earned his humanity back. He, too, was beginning to think that it was the Senior Partners as well, as a cruel punishment for killing the members of its elite group. He regained focus and looked at Illyria again. "What is Angel planning to do about it?"

"They're going to put up a façade. Project the image that he is still a formidable vampire. I do not know how they plan to do it," Illyria answered, wondering how they were planning to pull it all off. Even now, she still did not quite care how they were going about it, but Wesley was thinking about it. His eyebrows knit together slightly as he considered options.

"Maybe if I were to use spells to use a glamour, and healing spells. Vampires heal fast, and he would need to heal fast somehow if they plan to keep it up," he said, not necessarily to Illyria, but aloud in general. Thinking in his head was one thing, but hearing himself aloud helped him decide whether he was coming up with something absurd, or something useful. This idea sounded reasonable enough, and he rubbed his chin again. Illyria began to shake her head.

"No. They will have to find another way, or find a witch to work for them. They still think you're dead," Illyria said, balling up a fist and resting it on the arm of her chair. She had just gotten him back the night before. She still wasn't ready to reveal to the others that she had Wesley revived, and she was even less ready to even consider talking to them about _why_ she had brought him back. Wesley watched her, the amused smirk showing slightly again.

"Why not? If you won't tell me what makes me different from the others, I'll go to the Hyperion myself," he said. "Why keep me hidden when I can be useful to them?"

Illyria glared at him, and Wesley was lucky it wasn't possible to glare literal daggers at a person, because otherwise, he'd be dead again, suffering a death multiple times worse than what Cyvus Vail had given him. She didn't want to get into this again. She still was very far from wanting to admit it out loud, but he was persistent. Her will was stronger than his. At one time, it could bring a kingdom to its knees in awe and fear of her. Her powers had been reduced, but her will was still iron.

When she didn't speak, Wesley spoke again.

"I see. Well, I'll be going then. Enjoy your sulking," he said, getting up from the couch and taking a moment to stretch his back. Then, he nodded to her and turned toward the door, waiting for it. When he reached the handle, Illyria's hand was on his wrist, and she easily moved herself between him and the door.

"I said, you are staying here until I say otherwise. For someone who is supposed to be intelligent, you seem to not grasp what I am telling you," Illyria said, looking up at him with narrowed blue eyes. Wesley looked down at her and raised an eyebrow slightly, his face somewhat blank. After all he had been through and done over the years, he was no longer above this.

He loosened his wrist from her grip; it hadn't been a very tight grip, but a warning one. His face was dangerously close to hers when he leaned his arm on the door, and he looked her straight in the eyes, testing her. His other hand rested on the door as well, near her side, just barely pinning her to the door.

"So stop me."

This was most unexpected, and Illyria felt her breath catch, which was also just as unexpected. She'd wanted to experiment before. She'd started to wonder what it would be like, and he had so adamantly told her it was never going to happen. He was alive again, so she was sure that he would uphold that decision, but there he was… so close to her, daring her.

For the first time, the god king was unsure of what to do.

_Please, please review! I'd love to hear what you think about this chapter, and hopefully I'll get another one up soonly! :)_


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